Raindrops stick to the passenger jet’s giant windshield, catching the night lights illuminating the airport so that each raindrop looks like a delicate and rare jewel.

I guide the plane into the terminal and smoothly park it. I unwrap my hands from around the controls and release the breath I always seem to hold whenever I have to land one of the jumbo jets. As much as I love flying, I’ve never been able to completely quell the nervous tension that settles over me whenever it comes to the landing. Too many painful and scary memories.

I lean back against my seat and close my eyes, focusing on my breathing while the head flight attendant’s calm voice outlines the rules for exiting the plane.

“You look tired,” Ronan says in a wickedly smooth voice.

My shoulder muscles bunch beneath my severe Northwest captain’s uniform. I had a bad feeling about Ronan since the minute I was informed I was getting a new co-pilot for the Atlanta to Italy leg of my two-week run, and meeting him didn’t change anything. He’s cocky, arrogant, and flat-out pisses me off.

The fact that he started our association together off by asking about love didn’t earn him any points in my book.

I actually spent the entire flight hoping he’d make a mistake, that he’d do something that wouldn’t jeopardize the flight, but that would result in him being fired, or at the very least transferred to another plane, but he didn’t. In fact, he was a remarkably calm and efficient pilot.

And, even though I anticipated him spending the entire flight making one cheap pass after another at me, he’d actually kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself.

“Should I handle the captain’s farewell, Captain?” Ronan askes, pulling me from my thoughts.

I should let him. Far as I know, Northwest doesn’t have any rules about the co-pilot addressing the passengers, and even if they did, Northwest’s execs won’t care if I break that rule. It’s not like they ever take an interest in anything related to the company.

And I am tired, bone tired, more tired than a pilot should be, but have always refused to lean on anyone, and that includes the latest in a long line of co-pilots. Especially him.

“I’ve got this.” I grab the intercom and press the button as soon as the flight attendant finishes her spiel. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I just want to use this opportunity to thank you for both choosing Northwest Airline for your international traveling needs and making this flight a true pleasure. Enjoy a lovely time in Florence.” I slide a sideways glance at Ronan. Something about his mildly amused expression irritates me. “While you’re in the city, I urge you to enjoy a dinner that consists of Bistecca Fiorentina with Schiacciata Fiorentina for dessert. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.” Just saying the words makes my mouth water. I’m a sucker for good Italian food.

I turn off the intercom and sense more than see Ronan grin. “Sounds like you know a thing or two about Florence.”

The airport crew has the jetway that leads people into the airport in place. I push the button that opens the large hatch-style door on the side of the plane and go to stand beside it. “I’m a pilot. I know my way around a lot of cities.”

“True,” Ronan murmurs. He stands beside me and smiles warmly at a blue-haired woman as she carefully maneuvers her large walker through the narrow space. “But something in your voice makes it sound like you have a special affinity for this city.”

“Affinity?” I hiss under my breath. “That’s a pretty big word for a frat boy, isn’t it?”

Granted, I don’t know where Ronan went to school, but he strikes me as the kind of lazy rich kid whose daddy managed to pull strings and get him into a fancy ivy league school where he spent four years drinking beer and hazing freshmen with his frat brothers.

The bite in my tone doesn’t faze Ronan. “I learned a few things along the way, including a couple of big words.” His shifts his weight and stares at me. “How ‘bout once we finish the post flight check, you show me around Florence? I’ll even spring for that fancy dinner you told the passengers to get. What do you say?”

“I say that we finish securing the plane, then you’re free to do whatever it is you do. I’ll head to the hotel and go straight to bed.”

As soon as the last sentence falls from my mouth, I know it’s a mistake. Ronan wastes no time taking advantage of it.

He sidles closer and bends his head until his warm breath teases the hair near my ears. “I’m ready and willing to make sure you enjoy your time in bed. It’ll be the best time you’ve ever had in bed. I promise, I’ll take good care of you.”

I’ll never, ever tell Ronan, or anyone else for that matter, this, but deep down, there’s a tiny part of me that’s really tempted to invite him to my room. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how it’s been a long time since I’ve felt a man’s touch and well, Ronan is here, he’s attractive, he’s obviously willing, and if I’m being completely honest with myself, he’s hot. But he’s also a co-worker, and if there’s one lesson I’ve truly learned, it’s to never, ever strike up a relationship with a co-worker.

Unfortunately, constantly telling myself that Ronan is off limits hasn’t done a damn thing to ease the warm glow that started burning in my belly when I first confronted him.

Rolling my eyes, I shift away from Ronan. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

Ronan’s brows climb toward his hairline and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Really? Mind if I watch?”

“Pervert,” I say, speaking just loudly enough for him to hear, but not loudly enough for the man shepherding two young, sleepy-eyed children past me to pick up on.

Ronan chuckles softly. Grinding my teeth together, I stand still just long enough for the last passenger to disembark before spinning on my heel and storming back into the cockpit to start filing my post-flight report.

I don’t hear from Ronan again until after we’ve taxied the plane to the space it’ll spend the next few hours before making another trans-Atlantic flight. He follows closely at my heels as I climb down the stairs out of the plane and walk across the tarmac as a warm, soft Italian rain drizzles down on us.

His shoes slap against the wet ground as he draws even with me. The rain manages to make the spicy cologne he’s wearing even more appealing. My hands curl into fists.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out or something?” Ronan says in a soft tone. He lengthens his stride, beating me to the large red door that leads Northwest employees from the tarmac into the small collection of rooms the airline rents for us. He turns the handle and pulls the door open before taking a step back, creating just enough room for me to proceed him into the building. “We could take a quiet drive around the city, taking in the sights, or have a nice drink somewhere. Whatever you want. My treat.”

I stop right in front of the doorway and turn to face him. Meeting his eyes requires me tipping my head way back, making me truly aware of just how tall he is. “Look. I’m not in the mood for sex, drinks, or anything else you have in mind. I don’t want to see or hear from you until it’s time for our pre-flight checkout. And even then I want you to do your damnedest to stay out of my way. Got it?”

I spin on my heel and storm into the building before he has a chance to respond. As I speed walk toward the Captain’s breakroom, where there is supposed to be hot coffee, snacks, and lockers where we can stow the things we need for our next flight, I hear the red door click shut and the heavy fall of Ronan’s footsteps in the narrow hall.

I open the breakroom’s door, stepping over the threshold at the same time my hand hits the light switch. Just as the room transitions from light to dark, my foot strikes something soft on the floor, the unexpected contact causing me to pitch forward and hurtle, face first, toward the floor.